The Dead of the Night
by tfm
Summary: Post Faceless, Nameless. Hotch’s sabbatical may be the only chance she gets to sleep with the boss. Rossi/Prentiss smut.


**Title: **The Dead of the Night**  
Rating: **NC-17**  
Fandom: **Criminal Minds**  
Characters/Pairing: **Rossi/Prentiss**  
Genre: **Romance/Drama**  
Summary: **Post Faceless, Nameless. Hotch's sabbatical may be the only chance she gets to sleep with the boss.  
**Author's note: **Because really, who needs study?  
**Prompt: **From microgirl: A quickie in Dave's office.

The Dead of the Night

She slips inside, pushing the door shut behind her. The blinds have already been pulled closed, the result of David Rossi's sudden need for privacy. At first she had found it strange that a man with several best-selling books, and an ego the size of a small African country might think that way, but then she'd remembered that he's acting Unit Chief, and he absolutely _hates_ politics. They're caught in the wake of the Foyet drama, and she wonders just how many times Erin Strauss has come knocking on his door.

She knows that Strauss won't come knocking tonight, though – it's after midnight, and it's an unwavering pattern in all those agents that don't actually work cases that they're out of the office by seven at the latest. She's grateful for that fact now more than ever.

'Everything okay?' he asks, with some concern on his face. She's only ever come into his office like this to talk privately, but not tonight.

'You're doing paperwork?'

'You'd be surprised how many forms need to be filled out every time Morgan fires a bullet,' he answers, with a grin on his face. For a world-class profiler, he's being surprisingly obtuse.

She steps forward, fingers drifting to the top of her blouse. It's not until she's unfastened the first few buttons, revealing far more skin than is appropriate for an FBI agent, that he realizes what she had come in for.

He stands, the paperwork forgotten in the sudden heat that has filled the room. It's a stifling heat – enough that she absolutely can_not_ be wearing these clothes anymore. David Rossi is perfectly willing to help on that front. He's crossed the room in a matter of seconds, one hand slipping beneath her open shirt, the other circling her torso to cup her ass.

'I'm fairly sure this type of thing is discouraged during office hours,' he says, and she silences him with a long kiss.

'I'm pretty sure the moratorium is on dating co-workers at all,' she replies, lips curled into a slight smirk. 'And in any case, since when does David Rossi care about the rules?'

'Since he's realized just how much paperwork goes into screw-ups,' he counters, giving a tip of his head to indicate the piles of paperwork on his desk. She doubts any of the paperwork is for an actual screw-up, but she understands the point he's trying to make. Still, he doesn't argue as she deals with the rest of her buttons, his hand still clutching at her breast. He squeezes gently, probing further as she slips the shirt off, giving him more freedom of movement. It's a freedom that he takes advantage, finding the sensitive spots that he knows so well.

His other hand drifts upwards, running along her spine before entangling itself in her hair. She feels that moment of contentment; the moment that tells her it's a little more than just sex. But contentment isn't the only thing she had come looking for tonight. She's come to satiate that want that's decided to settle itself in her lower abdomen. It's been at least a week since she's felt his touch. Sneaking into each other's hotel room isn't the best plan of action when working with profilers, even if Hotch and Reid are both still on sick leave. Morgan, at least, has enough hypervigilance to make up for both of their missing colleagues.

Morgan's not here now though. Now, it's just the two of them.

She finds herself being turned and pushed against the desk. She stops his hands at her belt buckle. 'Just a second.' She pulls the condom from her pocket, and then motions for him to continue. Sex in the office is one thing, but the last thing they need is a mess on their hands.

'You came up here just to seduce me?' he asks, his breath hot on her neck, his cock pressed hard against her.

'It seems my pretense of official business hasn't fooled you.' She gives a small moan as he slips his hand beneath her panties, fingers moving in a way that makes her want to scream.

'I fear I may need to punish you for this deceit.' He slips his finger inside, rubbing gently. She closes her eye, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

'…God,' she manages to say, any witty retort caught in the throes of passion.

'I guess you should count yourself lucky that we don't have any whips or chains handy,' he whispers, making her tighten against his touch. She's not a completely submissive person, but sometimes the thought of David Rossi dominating her is the most god damn erotic thing in the world. 'Maybe tomorrow,' he chuckles, removing his fingers. She gives a small sound of disappointment, even though she knows that it's far from over.

She doesn't argue this time, as he slides her dress pants and underwear down with one swift movement. He doesn't bother to fully disrobe himself – after all, clothed and fucking a subordinate on government property looks marginally less horrific than naked and fucking a subordinate on government property, should anyone choose to interrupt them.

He slips himself free, and rolls on the condom. She tightens her grip around his neck as he pushes her upwards until she's sitting on the edge of the desk, and then thrusts roughly inside of her. She bites her lip to stop the scream from escaping; the fact that they usually make a great deal of noise doing this means it's just that much more risky.

His hands grasp her hips, and she's positive that there are going to be bruises in the morning. It doesn't last long, but then, a night of passion had never been her goal. She's breathing heavily as he pulls out, and it takes her a moment to recover and find the cognitive capacity to redress.

'That was…fantastic,' she whispers, a hand brushing against his cheek. 'We should do it again sometime.

'That is a _very_ good idea,' he agrees, pulling her in for kiss. 'You know, Hotch doesn't come back for at least two weeks. I think I'll need to be staying late doing paperwork for most of that time.'

'I'm pretty sure I can think of a reason to stay.' She gives him another kiss, and straightens herself before heading to the door. 'But right now, I think we need to go home. I am nowhere near finished with you, David Rossi.'


End file.
